Lost on the Moon
by Kinners
Summary: Artemis Fowl thinks he's too cool for school. And the rest of the world, too. He considers himself above the common man, as any fan of the series will know. But can a punk like Di prove him wrong when countless geniuses thrice her age have failed? Why don't you come and find out? (T for violence in future chapters)
1. Chapter 1

_"I don't care about you_

_I didn't really want to be your friend_

_So maybe_

_I think you're a fool_

_I think you're a tool"_

_**Artemis**_

I spriff my jacket again, strolling through the crowded hallways towards my next dull, uninteresting, and altogether too easy class. I've gone over this before with my mother, how my IQ simply cannot be elevated any farther by the bumbling teachers at Bart's Academy. Yet she insists that I have a 'normal' education, despite the fact that I am anything but a normal child. I've fooled terrorists, swindled geniuses, even blackmailed faeries. If anything, I should be headmaster of this ridiculously overpriced charter daycare.

But no; I have to deal with _them_.

I slip into my classroom along with throngs of chattering teenagers, unable to stifle an eyeroll. My name is printed neatly in capital letters on my desk, as if the school was attempting to compensate for my subordination as a student. Sighing in exasperation, I sit, wishing more than anything to be able to miss this class. The rest of the semester would be nice, too. But even I can't have it all. The prodigal criminal, the almighty Artemis Fowl, sentenced to suffocation in a school. It doesn't matter if it's public or not. School is school.

And despite my valedictorian status, I _hate_ school.

Apparently, I'm not the only one.

The person sitting directly next to me drops her backpack haphazardly on the desk in front of her, apparently relieved to have a seat in the back far from Mr. Hartfoot's watching eye. I roll my eyes for what must be the fifth time today-of all the students in the school to be sitting next to me, it had to be a delinquent. _The_ delinquent. I can tell merely by her aura. I didn't need to know anything about her reputation, I didn't even need to see her. I just had to feel her devil-may-care attitude, the rebellious nature steaming off of her. Unbeknownst to me, my new classmate would have a much greater impact than I would at first estimate.

A loud, sudden noise startles me. Looking over at my deskmate, I find that that sudden noise was a snore. She's facedown on the desk, her strawberry blonde hair sprawled about her head as she cuddles her backpack and sleeps on. The whole class turns and giggles. Even though it's not my own fault, I feel the heat of embarrassment rise up in me. I tried to do something about it, elbowing her and putting on my best look of scorn.

"The least you could do is act awake," I growl. She doesn't even look up.

"Like anyone pays attention in this class," she responds, loud enough for Hartfoot to hear at the front of the room. What with her outlandish American-British accent, I'm not surprised that it catches his attention. "You included. Everyone's either too dumb to understand, too smart to learn anything, or too sleepy to care. Guess what category I'm in?"

"I'd say the first," I insult coldly, sitting back again. That seems to get her attention-she snaps awake with the reflexes of a wildcat, glaring at me with a round face full of freckles and the brightest hazel eyes I've ever seen.

"If anyone's in category one, it's the blockhead who didn't catch my 'sleepy' hint," she growls, sitting up to try and stare me into submission. As if that would work-I've literally been through more than she could imagine. I hold her gaze steadily, donning my most immaculate poker face. Then she does something that almost surprises me. She smiles.

"Look's like someone's got a bridle on his temper," she drawls, sitting back and putting her hands behind her head. "That's something ya don't see at Bart's every day. What's your name, Mr. Vanilla Ice?"

"Artemis," I answer warily. I have no idea who Vanilla Ice is, nor do I care. But the main reason I'm put off is that most people I know don't switch gears like that. Of course, most people would include Butler, Juliet, Mother, Father, and maybe Holly. Maybe. I won't see her again anytime soon, I know...but I have a gut feeling that me and the People aren't through yet.

"You do realize that's the name of a god_ess_, right?" she asks quizzically, cocking an eyebrow. Just as rare as a cool-headed student is a student that cares enough to know her greek mythology. Intriguing. Perhaps she is smart enough to deserve tuition at Bart's. Of course, she's also a girl, so I can't say much.

"You do realize that your namesake is the Roman incarnation of that goddess?" I reply coolly, glancing at the nametag on her desk. Diane. How ironic. "And yet we couldn't be more different, judging only by the first moments we've met."

"Sure, we could!" she insists, grinning. "You could be a 40-year old with a desk job that's struggling with midlife crisis. And I could be a fruit fly with superpowers. Or a lump of cheese. Careful with your extremes there, Arty-girl like me is sure to take advantage of 'em."

"Artemis," I growl. She bothers me in a way I don't care to describe, yet at the same time I can't seem to break off the conversation.

Mr. Hartfoot clears his throat way up at the front of the classroom. Diane winks at me, then faceplants on the desk to resume her nap. I roll my eyes either at Hartfoot or Diane-I honestly don't care which at this point.

Class carries on, something about Greek philosophy and its influence on modern culture and democracy. Stuff that I know the textbook answer to, word for word. But even as I drone through the class, my gaze can't help but stray to Diane. I could cruise through the whole school deaf, dumb, and blind, and still maintain a 4.0. But I find myself worried...no, concerned for her. She looks like the kind of student to flooze around in class, hovering around the 1.5 line and really not caring. My parents would have a heart attack if I had that kind of attitude, and I don't blame them. If I were in the same situation and found my grade so poor, I would do the same. With my new classmate, I suspect that she would only react such if she suddenly found herself with straight A's.

I chuckle to myself, finding the scenario amusing...that's a first. I only jest in front of Butler, and even that's a thing as rare as fairy sightings on the surface. In class, that was easily the first time I'd ever laughed. And although I wasn't aware of it at the time, it would be the first of many, courtesy of Diane.

_"Just Your Problem Baby" is copyright SimGretina and DongleKumquat_


	2. Chapter 2

_"Walk a hundred miles, t__hen walk a hundred more_

_Away from the place you used to know_

_Embrace all the change, find a way to rearrange_

_Your feelings inside-never let them show"_

_**Diane**_

The bell rang with all the subtlety and soothing tone of a car alarm. I awoke with a sound akin to a hippopotamus about to charge, flipping my hair out of my eyes and swinging my bag haphazardly onto one shoulder. I swaggered up the aisle, tipping an imaginary hat at Mr. Hartfoot as I turned to go.

"Top o' the morning to ya, Gov," I farewelled in a Dick Van Dyke accent. I swung out the door, about to dive into the glorious mayhem of passing period, but my philosophy teacher stopped me.

"Diane," he growled, as if I were in trouble. On the inside, I punched the air in victory, ducking back in to stand in front of his desk. To my mild surprise, I found Artemis standing next to me, narrowing his eyes at me. Instead of getting annoyed like I usually do, I actually talked to him again. To Hartfoot it must've looked like I had spent a month in rehab and become nice to men while he wasn't looking.

"Hiya, Arty," I greeted. He mumbled something at me under his breath, but I pretended to ignore it. Anyone else would've gotten a black eye. "Whaddaya think of my Van Dyke? Little iffy, I know, but it could just be 'cause I'm a girl."

"Pristine," he grumbled. What the heck does that big word mean? "What is it, Mr. Hartfoot? We have classes to go to...or to nap through, in her case."

"He has a point," I conceded. "If you don't hurry up, this could cut into my sleep big-time. And trust me, you don't want to see me when I'm-"

"I'm well aware," interrupted Hartfoot. I inspected the steadily growing bald spot smack on top of his head that he had somehow ignored for years of student teasing. "In any case, I was instructed by Principal Guiney to tell you that there has been a schedule change. Rather than proceeding to Dr. Yueh's class for astrophysics, your third period class shall be spent with Dr. Po."

"The psychiatrist?" blurted Artemis. I cocked an eyebrow at him, although personally I wasn't too thrilled myself. Po was brighter than your average teacher-I would be lucky to catch half a wink in a whole hour-long session. At the thought, I gave my best difficult teenager sigh, with some guttural boar growl thrown in.

"What about astrophysics?" insisted Artemis. Why did he care? I was half glad to be missing the class. Yueh scared me a little, and A-physics always gave me migraines when I tried to sleep through that class.

"Your schedule will be adjusted accordingly," dismissed Hartfoot with a cursory wave of his hand. I almost swore at him, he was so calm about everything. Schedule was a huge part of school life to students, a part that teachers shredded as casually as old documents. How was I supposed to walk from Po's all the way to the gym in four minutes through a sea of kids? The temptation to start a fight would overwhelm me. In fact, it was starting to right at that minute.

"Can we go now?" I snapped, sounding a little cross. Cross? Ew, I'm going native. Hartfoot nodded, not even bothering to write us passes. I gave my boar-sigh again and stormed out the door, closely followed by Artemis. But once I was safely wrapped within the reassuring tide of school traffic, my mood significantly increased. I tend to suffer from off-putting mood swings, mostly due to a chronic case of short-term memory loss. I elbowed Arty, grinning at him.

"At least we don't have to sit through Hartfoot _and_ Yueh in a row, huh?" I joked. He didn't seem amused, which kinda bugged me. "Can I be the first to say _boooring!_"

He didn't even respond, just carrying on. His face didn't even budge, which was just plain weird. I normally had an effect on people-a tangible one. A chuckle at a joke, an insult at something I did wrong, a bruise because somebody made me mad..._something._ He freaked me out a little, how he was so inexpressive.

Deciding not to make it worse, I shrugged and kept walking, pretending not to notice him. But we were walking along the same route, so it's not like we could pretend that each other didn't exist. But out of the corner of my concentration, I noticed the halls abnormally clear of students. I seized Artemis's hand, eyes wide in panic.

_"RUN!_" I belted.

**_Artemis_**

_"RUN!"_

Without warning, Diane snatched my hand and bolted. My feet flew out from under me, thrown off from the sudden change of speed that I didn't seem physically capable to warrant for. We were bolting towards Po's office, though it was less than two hundred feet down the hall from us and we could easily make it in time. From my time sense, we still had a whole minute to make it. I could only assume that the halls were empty because everyone else had somehow gotten to class early for once, all at the same time…

...okay, I must have miscounted. That's also a first.

When Diane came to the door and tried to throw it open, the knob clicked and held. The blasted idiot had left his door locked. But that didn't stop Diane. She rolled up her sleeves, shoving her backpack at me.

"Back up, jack!" she brassed. Then she leaned back and kicked the door down flat. No joke.

I stood there for a couple seconds with my jaw dropped. I'd only seen Butler do that, and he was three or four times her size. Grunting as if satisfied, Diane led me in, taking her backpack back and swinging it over one shoulder as was customary with her. It was all I could do to dumbly follow her in, seating myself in front of Po's desk with what must've been a ghastly expression on my face. The bell rang, its brisk sound inviting me to take a deep breath in order to right myself. When I opened my eyes, I beheld Diane with her feet up on Po's desk and Po glaring at us from over steepled fingers.

"Was that really necessary?" he demanded, glaring at Diane. She shrugged, waving her hand offhandedly as if she didn't know herself.

"You're the one who locked the door," she reminded. I couldn't help but chime in.

"You could've knocked," I pointed out. She looked at me blankly, as if she didn't know what I was talking about.

"Forget it," I sighed, resting my elbow on the armrest and kneading my temples. Why on earth had Po subjected us not only to one of his ridiculously unhelpful therapy sessions, but at the same time? As polar opposites, putting us in the same room together to talk about our emotions was like mixing sodium and water. Everything will go up in flames.

"Miss Sullivan," rumbled Po. I stifled a sigh, mentally preparing myself for the assault; by his tone of voice, he was about to begin a lecture. "Do you remember why you were permitted at St. Bartleby's School for Young Gentlemen?"

"Because my mom's the richest broad this side of the Atlantic?" she drawled automatically. Her quote even sounded rehearsed. Certainly Po hadn't been expecting an answer like that. In any case, I was paying attention-the opportunity to see the school counselor this red in the face was too good a one to pass up.

"Because your mother is an important woman," he corrected icily. Diane blinked at him. "And an old friend of the Principal's. Nonetheless, you are walking on a precarious limb here, one that it would not do you well to fall from."

"So what if I fall?" asked Diane, furrowing her brow as if Po's jab at her position was idiotic. "I'll just get up again and try another limb. Boo hoo, ya know?"

Po cleared his throat. No doubt he was imagining his desk being occupied by some other poor soul, soon to be retired by me just as his predecessor.

"In any case," he began. "I decided to have your counseling sessions in the same period because I feel that it could be beneficial. I believe you have much to learn from each other."

"Such as how to be a grade A cleverclogs?" murmured Diane, eyeing me from the chair beside me.

"Or how to be American?" I retorted. Boy, she scowled at that.

"How not to style a mullet?" she snapped back. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"It's not a mullet," I growled. "It's...unique."

"The way a Chinese Crested's do is unique?" She was good at her retorts...a little too good for my liking. Po cleared his throat yet again.

"Leave each other alone, would you?" he grumbled. "We have more important business to attend to. Now, why don't we start with your life stories?" Here he turned to beam at Diane, apparently attempting to switch from stingy teacher to warmhearted grandpa. It seemed to work on Diane, only proving the extent of her cranial capacity.

"Well, I'm Euro-American," she began, hands on her knees as she began her ramble. Brilliant...English _and_ American. "My dad was a famous actor slash pop star, my mom is the filthy-rich ex-duchess of Czechoslovakia, but I've lived with my dad all my life. Then he got addicted to crack and alcohol, so Mom sued to get me back and land Dad in rehab. She was successful, because like I said, richest broad on the planet. Then she landed me in a school with no other girls and whenever I'm not in a fight my life is a pain."

Wow. That was a lot to take into. That kind of backstory fit that of a Dickens-style orphan, not an apparently bouncy teenager. Po and Diane looked expectantly at me. I returned Diane's gaze coolly.

"Not much to tell," I lied. "I'm rich as well, easily more so than your 'royal broad,' and I too have no liking for school."

"Come now, Artemis, there's more to you than that, surely," goaded Po, obviously feeling that it wasn't fair that I got all the dirt on Diane and she barely heard a peep from me.

"So what if there isn't?" interrogated Diane, looking shadily at Po. I was mildly surprised that she was rising to my defense when she barely knew me. But why look a gift horse in the mouth, albeit a temporary one? Po sighed a little, straightening some papers. This is going to be a long period.

_"Home" is copyright MandoPony_


	3. Chapter 3

_"Give me a smidge of confidence_

_Give me a speck of something that makes sense_

_Give me an ideal of dependency_

_Give me a dash of loyalty_

_Loyalty"_

_**Diane**_

I woke up again with a jolt, the bell abrasive in my ear. Fourth and fifth period seemed to have gone by too quickly. For half a moment I considered that that was the bell to start fifth period, but when I saw everyone packing up to go to the six/seven block, I grumbled with the grim recognition. I got up, rubbing my eyes and ruffling my hair a little as I shambled out of class. Again with the glorious hallway traffic. I felt pretty good-next period I had Ms. Fey for language arts, and she was chill as can be. Aside from that crazy morning schedule mash, today was going pretty good. Only two more days 'till the weekend, after all.

But then I ran into something. Something that, despite its normality for a girl like me, stuck out in my memory for a long time.

First thing I heard was Ike calling out to another of his victims. Ike was your classic school bully. Even across the ocean I couldn't escape the typical jerk and his entourage who want nothing more in life than to rough up little guys. But this little guy was Artemis-that cleverclogs kid that I shared philosophy and Po's torment with. Even from the other edge of the vaulted hall, I could pick out Ike from the sea of kids. Not like this was a tough thing to do; Ike was a head taller than any other student and had twice the acne. He was shoving a kid that I couldn't quite recognize from this distance, but by the pale skin and swatches of black hair I caught between traveling students, it was Fowl. I made my way over, dodging around other students to get closer.

"That's a shiny GPA you've got there," taunted Ike, going on to call Artemis an unprintable name. By this time I was crouching behind a herd of bystanders, watching the goings-on between two heads. "What'd ya do, memorize the textbook?"

"I could if need be," growled Artemis. By the strain in his voice I could tell he was keeping his temper under control-but just barely. "How far did you read into it? An entire sentence before the big words made your head swim?"

'Oohs' and 'Burns!' rippled through the crowd. I didn't like the look in Ike's eyes. He wasn't used to being taunted like that, and whatever he wasn't used to he usually punched. With Arty's thin frame, I doubted that he could take a solid hit from Ike without a trip to the ER.

"I'd rather be an idiot than a dorkfaced % *#& like you!" retorted Ike. One of his partners in crime backed him up, his voice tinny and a little too high to be a natural man-voice.

"Yeah!" he piped, his white-blond hair greasy and mussed up. I think this one was Garret-but he was twins with another kid named Garth, and I could never keep them straight. "He'd rather be a dork!"

"That's idiot, idiot," corrected Ike, elbowing Garret in the ribs. Garret doubled over and whimpered.

"Survival of the fittest, eh?" mused Artemis, straightening his school tie. I had to admit, you could tell that he'd been practicing his scary face. I got chills just looking at those narrowed eyes and that vampiric smirk. "A flawed regime. Obviously if you were truly powerful, you wouldn't have to remind your subordinates to behave all the time. True loyalty is nothing you possess. Why would you expect_ them_ to be loyal?"

"What do you know about loyalty?" bellowed Ike. I adjusted my position in the crowd. I could tell by his stance that he was just about finished with a word battle he was losing. "I know your type. You think you're all 'that,' but when the blows start coming, you go crying to mom!"

In the same fraction of a second, three things happened. Ike rushed forward, cocking back a vicious overhand slug. Artemis paled even more than I thought was possible, his deep blue eyes widening at the sight of the oncoming onslaught. And I slipped in between them, so catlike that nobody noticed until Ike toppled backwards with a violent swear and a rattled jaw.

"That's right, ya *#&$ing %* &!" I cussed, watching as Ike spat out a bloody tooth with murder in his eye. I smugly rolled up my sleeve, hot anger bubbling up within me and tinging my speech. "That'll teach ya to pick on someone your own size! But would ya take a look at that pot-belly! A fight with a hippo would be no better than this!"

Then the glory begins.

Garret-or is it Garth?-rushed at me, carelessly berserking. I tackled him in the gut, punching him in the eye as he fell. Another of Ike's cronies seized me by the middle and pulled me up off of him before I could do any more damage. But I stomped on his toe as hard as I possibly freakin' could, plus elbowing him in the ribs. When he still didn't let go, I kept it up until Ike up and socked me in the stomach.

I doubled over, the breath knocked from my lungs. Agony blossomed in my stomach, my muscles audaciously demanding why they'd been put in the line of fire. But as I drew another breath, I started laughing. I'd never done that before in a fight. But I laughed, my strawberry blonde hair dangling around my face so that nobody could see the ridiculous mirth that cracked my face wide open. Finally I looked up, smiling straight into Ike's ugly mug.

"Eat this, $*%& #(*#." I giggled.

Now that the person holding me back was distracted and under the impression that I was incapacitated, I lunged forward with a burst of speed, his grip falling away like noodles. I headbutted Ike straight in the gut, his squished organs sending surges of pain through his nerves. Then I pulled his head down and knee'd him in the face, crunching his nose into a bloody pulp. I shoved him in the side, causing him to roll gracelessly to the floor. I stomped on his back, drawing a moan and a gory cough. I pounded again, the blood rage alight in my eyes, but then Garret/Garth tackled me off of him. I rolled on top of him, giving him another black eye to match his left one. But my true target was Ike.

I sensed someone coming up behind me, and with predator instincts whirled and pounced blindly. Luckily, it was Ike, and now that I had pinned him with a half-nelson and a face in the floor, I let loose everything I had on that cur. I punched him in the back of the head about twelve times, and then I flipped him around so I could get a dishonoring slug to the face.

"You ain't the biggest_ or_ the baddest, toughnut," I snarled vehemently. "You better watch yourself, because you've'd pissed me off, and when I'm mad I-"

"What in the name of sanity happened here!?"

I looked up straight into the eyes of my principal, my school nurse, and my psychologist. I grinned, one of my teeth falling out in the process.

"Hiya, Po!" I greeted.

_"Loyalty" is copyright MandoPony and AcousticBrony_


	4. Chapter 4

_"I had never learned_

_What friendship could mean_

_But I think that now's a great time to start"_

_**Artemis**_

I was unhurt, courtesy of Diane's timely interference. However, I couldn't speak for her. She was immediately swarmed by Mr. Po, Principal Guiney, and Mrs. Taigon, receiving everything from cursory diagnostics (in the case of Taigon) to harsh reprimands (in the case of Po). She was to be immediately whisked to the nurse's office, but she turned around as she was led away. Catching my eye, she smiled goofily and waved, her cheek swelling from having taken a nasty uppercut sometime in the madness of the fight. Reddening, I melted back into the crowd, hurrying to my next class.

What was she thinking? Getting into a fight for the sake of a boy she had literally just met? Where was her logic, her reasoning? It bewildered me. I didn't like being bewildered, simply because I wasn't used to it. Perhaps the same psychology was behind Diane's actions. Maybe she didn't like school bullies because she was unaccustomed to school violence-no, Artemis, you fool. She obviously knew what she was doing just then. Compared to Icarus O'hare, Diane looked like she had been assaulted by throw pillows. So why had she taken the punch for me?

_Why?_

The question continued to plague me as I sat down for my next class, to the point that I didn't even get around to jotting down notes for my next scheme. I spent the whole period fuming about this elusive puzzle. Funny how one girl's meaningless actions can mess with your head so badly that you forget to do anything else. But I couldn't shake the feeling that there was some ulterior motive, some bigger picture that I had failed to glimpse. Had she been looking for an excuse to get back at Icarus because of some childhood grudge? Did she have a violent disorder of sorts? Was she trying to suck up to me in order to bolster her own reputation? Everything was a blur, as if I had taken a black eye rather than Icarus and his two cronies. I went through the motions of school life, but I wasn't really there. Before I knew it, I was sitting at the lunch tables with a trayful of unappetizing nonsense in front of me, staring at the steel tabletop in front of me.

Sighing, I ran my hands through my hair, as if trying to awaken myself. I rested my head on my hands, propping myself up by my elbows. I stared into the depths of my dollop of cherry-flavored jello, as if trying to discern its mysteries rather than the the inner workings of Diane Sullivan's mind. It didn't make sense to me. I was too used to crime and criminals. My superior brain refused to believe that Diane had merely fought for the sake of fighting. People didn't do that. People were selfish, people had reasons. People don't jump in to the rescue of other people that they barely know, at the cost of a lost tooth and sore ribs. People pick on other people that appear to be weaker, in order for self-betterment. Icarus was normal. Diane was not. The whole scenario baffled me.

_"Hello?"_

A hand waved in front of my face, causing me to blink and pull my head back. Sitting across from me was the dreaded girl herself, as cheery and debonair as ever. For half a moment I was thrown-after indirectly causing her such pain, she decided to be the first student to sit next to Artemis Fowl at lunch? She grinned wide, revealing a missing molar.

"There you are!" she jested, stabbing a brussels sprout with a spork. "I was wondering where Arty went. From the vacant look in his eyes, I thought he'd gone off to peruse the galaxy, or unravel universal mysteries." She waved her spork around for emphasis, bugging out her eyes and fixing them on me as she deliberately put the sprout in her mouth. I watched her chew for a moment, neither of us blinking. But it couldn't last for long. I had to ask her.

"Why did you do it?" I asked quietly. She blinked at me.

"Do what?" she queried through a mouthful of veggie. She took another bite, obviously not paying much attention to me. I resented that outwardly, but it was my inner confusion that seeped into my voice.

"Why did you fight for me?" I clarified, my voice trembling slightly. By her nonchalant shrug, I deducted that she didn't notice my weakness.

"Because Ike was a jerk for picking on you." she explained simply. Too simple. I wasn't happy with her answer; any moron could come up with such a cover story. So either she was so basic in her brainwaves that she was telling the truth or she was so bad at improvisation that she was lying.

"So you don't know Icarus?" I pressed. She inclined her head, as if she didn't hear me quite. I thought I was onto something, and so leaned closer as well.

"Who?" she replied. My face contorted in annoyance.

"Ike," I repeated. "You two don't hold grudges against each other or anything?"

"We will now!" cackled Diane, shooting Ike some eye lightning from across the lunchroom. He scowled and hid his bruised, ugly head behind some other gangbangers. "I don't reckon anyone's given him a beating like that for a while. Well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall."

"So this is about your reputation?" I seized the possible lead. But it turned out to be nothing. Diane furrowed her brows at me.

"#*$ , no!" she retorted. Admittedly, I winced a little at the language. "I never do anything for publicity. That's like trying to please everyone."

Ignoring the fact that she had in fact perfectly described doing things for publicity, I continued. "Well then, why did you fight? Is this normal for you?"

"It was back in America," drawled Diane, smiling to herself as she recounted her war stories. Bingo-violent disorder it is. "Lemme tell ya! There wasn't a week when I wasn't sent to the VP's for pummeling some sorry sod! Those were the days…,"

I was certain I had her motive nailed, but I had to be sure. "So you didn't really do it for me? You did it for the thrill of the fight?"

Diane looked at me oddly then. In her eyes was a concoction equal parts concern, hurt, and outrage. I suddenly felt a little ashamed for asking.

"I did it for you. Simple as that."

It couldn't be.

"No, it's not 'simple as that!'" I snapped, sounding crosser than I intended. She didn't recoil, which either helped or didn't. "You wouldn't do that, you barely know me!"

"Does it matter?" She shrugged again, cocking one eyebrow and pressing the other one into the top of her eye. Courtesy of Diane, I now felt like a humbled idiot. She took a long slurp of her drink, and I sighed and sat back, closing my eyes for a relaxing instant.

"I guess not," I relented. When I opened my eyes, Diane was looking at me funny again. The sad concern was still there, but now it was paired with a selfless camaraderie I couldn't fathom from a total stranger.

"I have a feeling you haven't had many friends, Arty," she diagnosed. I glared at her sullenly, which didn't faze her.

"Who needs friends?" I growled, taking a drink myself.

"_Everyone_," answered Diane. I wasn't sure if I wanted to never see her again or remain in her company. "Including thinkers and fighters. We kids, we're all the same inside. Our strengths, weaknesses, personality quirks-none of it matters when it all boils down. We just need a friend."

I couldn't find a snappy retort to put an end to her heartfelt speech. My heart felt it in a manner that I wasn't accustomed to. I took a deep breath, unsure as to why my chest had suddenly gone claustrophobic.

"And I'm..," For the longest moment, I lacked the mettle to look her in the eye. "...I'm presuming that you would be mine?"

"Easy tiger," she brassed suddenly, carving a hunk out of her jello. All in a rush the thoughtless cliche of my statement hits me. "It's just like you said-I barely met you!"

I roll my eyes, smiling with a chuckle. For once in my term here at Bartleby's, I mean every move that I make.


	5. Chapter 5

_"And you are being stuck on the moon, like the rest of us_

_Trying to make sense of it_

_Crying, cause we don't have any reason_

_We're alone together_

_'Cause we all share the very same crime"_

_**Diane**_

Unbeknownst to Arty boy, I was just as baffled about today's events as he was.

I mean, sure, I got into fights all the time. That was a fact. But it was the cause of this fight that confused me. As Kyota whisked me into her office and procured some medical jargon for my bloody tooth-hole, my happy-go-lucky smile was quite the contrast to the distant look in my eyes. I'd never done anything like that...for _anybody_. I mean, sure, there was my gang of homies back in Arizona, but they fought their own battles. Sure, we'd traded jokes and messed with each other like it was nobody's business-but somehow it had been different with the Fowl kid. I'd felt a red hot surge in my gut when Ike lunged for him. Being the impulsive child I was, I had reacted immediately. But that surge was something different than my normal battle impulse. It was more like that furious churning in my gut that I get when people talk bad about my dad for being an actor/druggie/etcetera. I get especially violent when people go that far-just ask my former schoolmates. But I'd never had that sensation before with anyone else. So what the #$& was going on?

Sakura Kyota gave me a chemical-swabbed cotton ball to put in my wounded mouth. I liked Sakura-how could I not? Not only was she was constantly bandaging me up after getting into scrapes, but she my roommate, being the only other girl on campus. She never even yelled at me for fighting, unlike every single other teacher I'd ever met. She had dark hair and darker eyes, with asian features and deft, demure hands. She was really pretty, which is probably why she could sufficiently subdue every boy on campus for medical treatment.

"What did Ike do to you?" asked Sakura while she busied herself with putting the cotton balls and neosporin away. Even though I'd only been here a week or two, she already knew me back and forth. "Let me tell you, you messed him up _good_. Did he insult your dad, like that poor kid from last Monday?"

"No, actually," I managed through a mouthful of cotton. Sakura arched her eyebrows and blinked at me; her typical polite-surprise face. "He was picking on Artemis. Y'know, the antisocial genius who never does anything in class? Looks and acts a lot like a vampire?"

"_Him?_" replied Sakura incredulously. She was thinking the exact same thing that I was: why Fowl? I shrugged back at her unhelpfully, communicating that I was just as bewildered as she was at my own actions.

"And here I thought you were a chaotic neutral through and through," wowed Sakura to herself, clicking past me in ebony heels. She tends to spout nerdy jargon once in a while-I think it's because of all the anime she watches. I know that sounds racist, but she is seriously into the stuff, even for a Japanese native. She even got me into Hetalia.

"Next thing you know, you'll be the vigilante of the school." predicted Sakura. I gave my boar-sigh again.

"Yeah, and Arty Boy will be elected to the head of ASB," I retorted. "It's not like it's a big deal. I get into fights all the time."

"You have a pet name for him?" scoffed Sakura, smiling at me wryly. I gave my best wreck-your-$ *& scowl, which unfortunately didn't deter her. "_That_ explains a lot about why you jumped to the rescue."

"Shut it, Gaisha," I growled threateningly. I'm the only person who's allowed to get away with being racist to Sakura, partially because I don't really mean it. She's been my only friend since I left Arizona...until later today at lunch.

"I imagine you looked like an _angel,_" sighed Sakura, theatrically batting her eyelashes and waving her arm as she swung on the doorjamb. "Swooping in to rescue your pwecious Arty Boy from the villainous-"

I spat my bloody cotton ball at her, which she nimbly dodges. She's annoyingly good at dodging everything from insults to actual punches. Sometimes it makes me wonder if that means she's a ninja.

"For the record, if that gets out of this office, I'm going to slip an ice cube on your pillow," I snapped. She kept her smile on, but I could tell that she was through teasing. Which I appreciated, in all honesty. Sakura can get under your skin as easily as any IV, and her burns range from second- to fourth-degree.

"I believe you," she relented, sitting at her desk at the other side of the doorway. On the same wall as the doorway was a large window that encompassed almost the whole remainder of the wall. There was glass in the window pane, but at the moment Sakura had pulled it back to talk to me. She picked up the black cord-phone and dialed someone, undoubtedly the principal to give a doctored report of my affliction and its cause.

"I just...I don't know why I did it," I admitted. Sakura payed attention to me while she held the phone to her ear, flicking her eyes over to me. "The way I felt in my gut, though, it was as if Ike was going after my dad rather than some random classmate. You saw them, didn't you?"

"Yeah, they're just in the other room," confirmed Sakura. There are two wings to the nurse's office, in case one has to treat opposing sides of a brawl. With the whole school being composed of men save me and Sakura, you can imagine how the testosterone gets to peoples' heads around here.

"Yes, it's me," spoke Sakura into the phone. I cocked an ear, paying close attention in order to fill in the details on Guiney's side. "...she's fine, yes. Took an uppercut that dislodged a tooth, nothing more. ...hm? Oh, the others are worse off. Garth has two black eyes and Ike has two broken ribs, a shattered nose, the works. Kevin has a couple broken toes and a bruise in his side. ...if I may say, sir, Diane was acting in self-defense of another student. ...with all due respect, Artemis would have fared much worse than Diane if he had fought himself. He's a slight thing. ...I understand, sir. Starting…? Very well. I will inform her. ...yes. Bye."

Sakura put the phone down with a catty sigh. She and the Principal didn't get along very well, especially in terms of me. I was in the middle of mouthing _'Boo-Yah!'_ at my totalling of Ike and those other goons.

"Guiney has suspended you for the rest of the week, starting tomorrow morning." informed Sakura glumly, getting up and leaning through the open window at me.

"In case he hasn't noticed, this is a _boarding_ school," I pointed out. "Where am I going to go?"

"Tell that to him," replied Sakura. "Apparently you're not to attend classes. I suppose all you can do is hang out in our room all day."

I gave my boar sigh again, mixed with a little hissing crocodile. "For two days? What the #*$ am I going to do with myself?"

"Anything but get into another fight, is his reasoning," growled Sakura sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "He's such an idiot. If he were subjected to his own classes, he'd barely get by with a 1.6, let alone your grade."

"Tell me about it," I chuffed, hopping off the medical table and rubbing my sore jaw. "...wait, isn't that my actual grade?"

"It was last I checked," purred Sakura, patting me on the back. "You're almost there, _kodomo_-I know you have what it takes."

My smile fades, but only a little. I know I should care a lot more than I do, but I simply don't give a *# about my grades. My mum was so sick of putting up with me and my nonchalance that she shipped me here in the hopes of whipping me into shape. So far it hasn't worked.

I walked out the office door, quickly getting my bearings and strolling off to my current class. You never know. I should be the first to know that fate is only half as predictable as people make it out to be. Even as_ I_ make it out to be.

_"Lost on the Moon" is copyright Rina-Chan, the Living Tombstone, and WoodenToaster_


	6. Chapter 6

_"Time stands still when you're with me_

_How can I make you see?_

_Your crazy antics make me want to scream_

_Your name so loud that my ears start to bleed_

_To bleed"_

_**Artemis**_

Is this what it's like to have a friend?

It feels..._weird._

After the day she whipped Icarus, Diane had apparently been 'suspended' from classes. But how suspended can you be in a boarding school? I knew for a fact that the school wouldn't dare send Diane home to her mother-who knows how long Diane would last at home without breaking the law in some form or other? I swiftly corrected myself; Diane was obviously not at home in Ireland, Europe even. She had left her home on the other side of the planet, far away in Arizona. In any case, now that I had a friend, it felt odd now that she was not attending class until Monday. Technically, we'd only been friends for about twelve hours, but I still felt a little hollow when she was absent. But I knew that she had to be somewhere. And how easy is it to hide Diane, of all people? Not very.

When the bell rang for lunch, I melted into the crowd as best I could, trying my best not to be noticed. This became increasingly difficult as the students thinned out, vanishing into the cafeteria. Where could she be? She obviously didn't have dorms with the other students. So she must share one with the only other non-teacher female in the school-Ms. Kyota.

I slipped unnoticed to the nurse's office, though I hesitated at the door. How would it appear to Kyota if I suddenly took an interest in Diane when she didn't show up at school? I was uncharacteristically indecisive. Having never had a friend before, I wasn't sure if this was normal for friends or weird. I'm not talking kids-being-silly weird. More like bordering-on-stalker kind of weird. I stood with my back to the wall for what felt like an eternity, trying to reason through this. But nothing came, which was really frustrating for a boy who always has some sort of backup plan. I kneaded my temples, sluggishly formulating a the beginnings of a plan. But I knew that I had to act soon, because as suspicious as asking about Diane could seem, hovering uncertainly outside the door would be doubly so. Steeling myself, I ducked into the office.

Ms. Kyota was at her desk, investigating something on the computer whilst simultaneously jotting notes on a small pad by the mouse. At my entrance she politely looked up, calm and collected.

"Yes?" she acknowledged, awaiting my response. I suddenly felt warm. I really should have thought this out. I cleared my throat awkwardly, looking for anything to focus on in order to avert Kyota's gaze.

"Yes, um," I began clumsily. If I could've seen my ridiculous dialogue, I never would have set foot in the medical office again for shame. "About Diane? She wasn't at school today, and I was just wondering…,"

"She's been suspended from classes for the remainder of the week," she informed automatically, returning to her notepad for a brief moment. "Why?"

"I guess I just...wanted to thank her," I said truthfully, rubbing the back of my neck. This improvisation business was more stressful than you would think. "For saving my skin yesterday. Icarus would have torn me apart."

"Icarus and his entourage," corrected Ms. Kyota, allowing herself a mischevious smile. "You are wise to be grateful for Miss Sullivan's interference. I would allow you to see what she did to your assaulters, but I fear that they may lose control and further injure themselves."

"If anything, it would be me getting hurt," I stated, getting slightly suspicious. Was there another variable I was missing? "How could they possibly get-"

It was then that a hand clamped over my mouth, pulling me backwards. I gave a muffled yelp as two fingers were poked into the side of my head.

"Get out the cashbox! This is a stickup!" gruffed an obviously fake voice from behind me. Identifying the true voice, I grunted impatiently and rolled my eyes. Laughing at me, Diane let me free, and I spun around to look at her. If I were accustomed to this whole friendship business, I would have smiled at her, but instead I narrowed my eyes and gave her my best evil face.

"One could hardly pull a 'stickup' on me," I snarled, my voice more venomous than I had intended. Diane shrugged at me-by now she apparently knew me well enough to slough off my apparent hostility when I didn't mean it. But how?

"One could hardly rope Diane into mercenary status," quipped Ms. Kyota, smiling to herself at some inside joke. Now it was Diane's turn to give the nurse her scowl. I had a sneaking feeling that it was better than mine.

"How ya been, Arty?" greeted Diane, ruffling my hair as if I were her younger sibling. Wincing inwardly, I pulled back and gingerly tried to remedy Diane's catastrophic meddling.

"_That_ was uncalled for," I growled, whilst simultaneously fixing my hair. This only served to invite Diane to further aggravate me. She ruffled it again, which was really annoying. More annoying than I was accustomed to. I tried to bat her hand away, but she ceased on her own when she saw how much it was bothering me. It wasn't quite the hair itself that was irking me; it was more Diane's actions. Even after I'd done all I could to intimidate her, Diane obliviously cut straight to antagonizing me. Once again, she had baffled me.

"I go looking for you when you don't show up at school, like a _good friend_," I emphasize in exasperation, uncharacteristically moody. "and you reward me by intentionally annoying me. If you're trying to make a good first impression on me in terms of 'friendship,' you're not doing a very good job."

"I don't do first impressions," replied Diane, as if that was a disgustingly mainstream thing. I sighed at her. "Besides, I get the feeling that you wouldn't willingly slide into any first-impression stereotypes anyway. You're too much of a cleverclogs for that."

"...'Cleverclogs?'" I muttered to myself. Diane nodded at me.

"Um. Yeah," she responded slowly, as if it were obvious. "_Cleverclogs._ You're the biggest cleverclogs I've ever met. Possibly the biggest on the planet."

"Why can't you just call me Artemis?" I snapped. "First 'Arty,' now 'Cleverclogs.' What next? 'Lunar?'"

"Lunar?" echoed Diane with half a chuckle. I pouted, not used to being stood up by anyone at anything. I'd only come up with such a lousy nickname because the conversation had taken such a radical spin that I couldn't have predicted its outcome. Another first.

"Or something." I grumbled. Diane laughed at me again.

"I dunno what I'll call ya, but it'll be something better than that!" crowed Diane. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, attempting to channel my chi just like Butler taught me. But it was difficult to be calm around Diane.

"Am I bugging you?" she prodded, literally poking me in the shoulder. Nobody ever poked me.

"Am I bugging _you?_" I retorted. I was beginning to doubt this whole friendship nonsense. Why couldn't everything be expressed in some logical form, like an algebraic equation or a sophisticated syllabus? At least then I could dissect it, make sense of it, figure out its inner workings. I hated this guesswork, it was all utter nonsense. None of this was making any sense. That was exactly why I was so irritable. Normally I was calm, cool, collected; but now I found myself in a situation that no amount of studying and knowledge-seeking would guide me through. I had to rely on instinct and whatever Diane told me. As ridiculous as it sounds, it made me feel powerless.

And despite my valedictorian status, I _hated_ being powerless.

Apparently, I'm not the only one.

"Hey, talk to me, man," insisted Diane, elbowing me gently. Despite myself, I listened. "Why are you getting so worked up? I'm just messing with you."

"That's the point," I relented, deciding to stick with honesty for once. "I'm not used to being messed with. I don't like it. It makes me feel like I'm not on top anymore."

"So _t__hat's_ your problem," identified Diane, raising her eyebrows at me as she pointed. "You take everything too seriously. And then there are things that you don't take seriously enough. You're all over the place, dude. Either you didn't have a childhood, or something nasty must have happened to you, because your priorities are seriously skewed."

"Since when are you a psychologist?" I jabbed absentmindedly. I'd calmed down by now, but I marvelled at Diane's effective reading. Dr. Po would be beside himself with envy when he discovered that this punkish devil-may-care girl made it through to me before he did.

"Speaking of shrinks," purred Diane. I recognized that dangerous spark in her eye-it had been glimpsed in my own gaze on several occasions. "Whaddaya say we pull a little prank on the good doctor?"

I gave my most winning vampire smile. For a girl that was nothing like me, Diane thought just like I did.


	7. Chapter 7

Hi guys, sorry I didn't get to update last week! I couldn't find a computer that wasn't bugging out my google docs, and then I had the busiest week ever. D: I'll make it up to you guys! TRIPLE update! Two chapters here, and an update on my MtG fic. You guys are awesome!

~Kins

* * *

_"For the very first time_

_I don't want to be alone_

_For the first time I can say that I am home"_

_**Diane**_

"Are you sure this looks okay?" I asked tentatively, not daring to look in the mirror.

"Diabolical," assured Arty, smiling evilly. I took a lock of hair and draped it in front of my face. Straight and black. Utterly un-Diane. Purely diabolical. Po would have a fit.

"And you got Mr. Hartfoot and Mr. Yueh to swear secrecy?" I double-checked with Sakura. She smiled tightly at me, winking. I saluted to her as the five minute bell rang for us to book it to first period. Me and Arty diverged, him heading off to Mrs. Fey's class and me trudging to astrophysics. Fun.

As usual, I slept fitfully through class, trying to stifle the usual headache that always budded when I tried to sleep through Yueh's class. But as soon as that was over, it was off to Hartfoot, for a final conference with Arty before the fun began. Perhaps that was part of the reason I didn't sleep as good as I usually do-this whole plot had me excited.

_Is it the plot you're excited about?_ teased my shoulder Sakura from inside my head. I growled at her.

_Shut up._ I retorted, dispelling the imaginary figure.

The bell tolled, releasing me from my astrophysical prison and shipping me off to philosophy. Quite literally, the only reason I was so stoked for my next class was so that I could plan Po's upcoming torture with my partner-in-crime. I slid into my seat in the back of the classroom, next to the typically stoic Artemis. Mr. Hartfoot gave me a knowing smile before beginning the lecture. Look at that-a smile. From one of my teachers, nonetheless. The only other teacher that ever did that for me was Mrs. Fey, and once in a while Mr. Fey. He was the janitor, and his wife happened to be a teacher, so she was hired last year to make life easier for everyone. She was easily every student's favorite teacher, and in a place like this, that was a guaranteed safeguard on your job.

"I'm assuming everything went well in astrophysics?" predicted Artemis, scribbling notes in a journal filled with complex-looking equations and diagrams. One looked like a cube with a weird sensor on one side. I shrugged at him.

"As well as it always is," I grumbled. "I swear, I can never get half a wink in that blasted class. I don't know what it is, I just always get headaches."

"I wonder why that could be..," smirked Artemis, as if he were smiling at an ultra-nerdy inside joke. I knew better than to ask him about it later. It would likely cause my brain to spontaneously combust.

"So, how do I act goth?" I asked him. I knew a couple of emo kids back in Arizona, but I didn't know them personally. Back west my friends mostly consisted of the football and wrestling teams, most of whom were a couple years older than me.

"Gothic as in the late and high medieval ages, or gothic as in emo?" clarified Artemis. I scowled at him, a sight that would send lesser men screaming into the night.

"Emo," I retorted. "None of that knight-in-shining-armor stuff. Maybe you could try that one of these days, see if it blows up Po."

Arty visibly shuddered. "Let's stick to the subject. Step one is to keep a singular expression on your face at all times. Think furious at the world's idiocy, but too depressed to care."

I let my whole face sag, including my eyebrows.

"Add some more spunk to your eyes." he coached. I tried again.

"Nailed it," he said neutrally, raising his eyebrows as if that scared him a little. I imagined it would-I was furious at the world and other things all the time, but too-depressed-to-care is an unnatural thing if you know me.

"All the time?" I asked again. He nodded, mhm-ing at me. I gave my trademark boar sigh. I had no idea it would be this tough.

"Little less energy on the voice, though," chided Artemis. "A monotonous drone would be nice, devoid of emotion. Once in a while is fine, but even then, just the barest hint."

"How's this?" I droned. The very sound of such boringness from my own voice grated at my soul.

"Perfect," he complimented, smiling a little. "If he didn't know better, Po wouldn't recognize you in the slightest."

"This is going to be a lot harder than I thought it would be," I groaned. Did he shudder again?

* * *

_**Artemis**_

I was going to open the door to Po's office for her, but Diane sullenly let herself in. The look on her face really sold it-I hadn't believed that she would be capable of a prank of this magnitude. She was a much better actress than I had originally believed. This was going to be...fun? Yes, fun. It would be my first encounter with the strange and volatile substance.

Was that the only unstable metaphorical chemical I was tweaking with?

"Are you okay, Diane?" I asked slowly, as if I was unsure of her condition. She didn't respond, instead sitting in a chair with none of her usual flair. She was as wooden as Dr. Po's pencil, and as priceless as the look on his face.

"I'm fine." she droned, not bothering to elaborate on the subject. Dr. Po scribbled on his notepad some more, visibly concerned about Diane's drastic mood swing. Well, mood swing would be an understatement. It was more like an entire personality swing.

"I don't think you are, Miss Sullivan," said Dr. Po carefully. "This isn't like you. Normally you're so..._peppy_. What happened?"

"Society happened," she drawled, as if society were to blame for everything and that was the most obvious fact in the world. "I've been living a lie, being happy. _Happiness_ is a lie. There is nothing left in this world but negativity. Recently I've come to embrace it. You will all join me eventually."

"I should hope not," I mused, unable to stop myself. I was really getting into character, partially because I was secretly enjoying myself. "You look like you rose from the dead."

"They will eventually." she replied cryptically. Here she smiled with an unusual amount of emotion for an emo girl, which gave me chills. I saw Po visibly shudder.

"And when they do, I'll be around to see it," she claimed with increasing intensity. "Skeletons, zombies, vampires-all will raise themselves from their graves on that dread day. Under the helm of their leader, the Lich King Simetra, they will shatter society as we know it and establish a glorious anarchy of-"

"That's enough!" blurted Dr. Po, obviously on the verge of calling the nearest asylum. "Diane, those things don't exist. It's all in your head, and it's going to stay that way."

"It'd better," I agreed sarcastically. "If it doesn't, I'm afraid society is going to shatter, to be replaced by a 'glorious anarchy.'" I quailed in mock fear, rolling my eyes at _glorious anarchy. _

"It'll be fun," crooned Diane, a glazed look coming over her eyes. If I didn't know the truth underneath the ebony hair dye and fake piercings, I would have vacated myself from her presence in less time than it would take an electron to circle the nucleus.

"Let's change the subject, shall we?" lilted Dr. Po nervously. "Have you been reading any good books lately?"

"I just finished the Necronomicon," stated Diane, immediately jumping into the conversation. I immediately recognized the reference to Lovecraftian horror, and was unsurprised when she listed the following book. "Then I got into Call of Cthulhu. It's a really good book. Really pumps your brain-I had eldritch visions all last night. Cthulhu's actually not as ugly as you'd think. Mind-bending and multidimensional, but not all that ugly. At least, after you first look at him. After that, you're sort of over it, y'know?"

"The Necronomicon doesn't exist." I tried to point out, playing along. She looked at me blankly for a long moment.

"Oh, I know what you mean," she said suddenly, as if she just now understood my sentence. "It used to be nonexistent, but then it was pulled out of Azrath by a rift in Elder Spacetime and it fell into my lap while I was playing Amnesia. Again, it's really interesting. You wanna know what spells I learned?"

"Do tell," I improvised, leaning forward with a devilish look in my eye and a new idea just begging to be unleashed. "Perhaps you can use our psychologist here as a guinea pig."

"Very funny, Artemis," chuckled Dr. Po, his conscious refusing to believe our charade. I gave him my most chilling vampire smile.

"Do your worst." I purred.

Diane's eyes rolled back in her head, her eyelids fluttering theatrically. She raised a hand, outstretching her fingers toward Dr. Po so that a skull ring on her middle finger glared holes into his soul. Her head lolled back, and she began to chant in a monotone that was like nails on a chalkboard coming from Diane. I wasn't sure whether to act mortified or excited, so I chose the latter. My devious smile spread into my eyes as I recognized the hidden jokes in her chant.

"Op si na toidi," she recited. "I duw reven nrut otni siht noit-animoba. I wonk etaminani st'cejbo taht era retteb srolesnuoc naht mih. Cthulhu, Shub-Niggurath, izrath yi byakhee, neeeekaaaa…"

Suddenly she turned towards me, snapping her head forward and opening her eyes wide as she blurted something at me. This is my cue.

"_Simetra!_"

I doubled over and cried out as if I was struck. I fell forward out of my chair, convulsing as if I was having a lethal seizure or horrific nightmare. I made the most repulsive noises I could imagine, in order to drown out the laughter that threatened to burst out of me and ruin the ploy. Several times I made like I was strangling myself, like I was being possessed. All the while I kept tabs on an inconspicuous device concealed in my pocket. It worked flawlessly.

"Stop this at once!" demanded Po, standing up and staring awestruck at my terrifying act. On my knees now, I threw my head back and tapped the thing in my pocket. It keened out a mangled, high-pitched keen of some alien thing, and the best part was that it looked like I was the one screaming. The technological beauty in my pocket worked its wonders elsewhere, too.

The curtains snapped shut over the sunlit window behind Po's desk as if by magic, and I snapped my fingers behind my back so that it would seem like my spine had been snapped in half. Dr. Po called out into the darkness in terror, horrified by my apparent murder. Stifling my giggles, I bolted to the door, feeling Diane's hand on the doorknob. We slipped out, letting as little light in as possible. Now in broad daylight, Diane seized one of the waiting-chairs by the door and wedged it under the doorknob, on the verge of hysterics. I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep my own mirth under control.

"That was _priceless!_" cackled Diane, laughing so hard that she was having a hard time standing up. I was having a hard time keeping my normal straight face-Diane's laughter was the most infectious thing since the bubonic plague. "With the curtains, and the chanting, and the obscure Lovecraft references and..._everything!_ That was #$!%&ing brilliant! How did you do that!?"

I was going to respond, but I had to stop and get myself under control. Meanwhile, she carried on with her rave.

"Did you see what I did there, _Simetra?_" she giggled. I nodded, my cheeks hurting from trying to stifle the most ridiculous grin. "It's Artemis backwards. You're a lich king!"

She made zombie sounds at me whilst I tried deep breaths to calm myself down. But the dam burst when Diane slipped on the tile floor and sprawled with an unladylike swear. I couldn't take it anymore.

I laughed. Then and there, right in front of her. We laughed. All through the remainder of the period, while Dr. Po pounded on the door and demanded to be released.


	8. Chapter 8

_"Some will say that this is not gonna last long_

_Some will say that if we try, we can't go wrong_

_As time goes on, we are not leaving this place_

_'Cause when we all come back, we're losing track of time and space"_

_**Diane**_

"Seriously though," I pressed, nodding at Artemis through a mouthful of caesar salad. "How'd you pull that off in Po's class today?"

"I'll never tell," he purred cryptically. He was maddeningly complicated like that. Grunting unhappily, I munched more salad, the tang a welcome change from the fatally oversweetened jello. Don't mistake me for a vegan or a hippie, though-I only started eating salad when I came here because half the time the alternative was an elevated form of dog food. Then I discovered that I liked it, which was like admitting that I thought Bush was the best president since Washington. In case I haven't mentioned it until now, I have very pointed opinions about basically everything. Not always consistent or thought out, but pointed.

"C'mon, dude," I pried, elbowing him gently. At least, I thought I was being gentle, but Artemis reacted a little more forcefully than I would expect from my shove. "You _gotta_ tell me. I don't care if it's too sciency for me to understand, I've been dealing with that basically my whole life. You gotta tell me!"

Artemis narrowed his eyes at me for a long time while I begged. Finally those bluer-than-blue eyes closed, and he sighed in defeat.

"It's only a prototype," he began. I braced myself for over-my-head jargon, deciding in advance that I would try not to sift through it. "I'm still working out the kinks of the technology. It's hyperadvanced tech, stuff that Einstein himself would have difficulty dissecting. Or believing, for that matter. I'm hoping that when version 1.4 is developed, I will understand my little creation back and forth and have a patent pending under one of my various aliases. Perhaps the one that I used for my 1999 satellite callibrator. A real gem, that. Completely wireless, and costs only about one point three five six grand to manufacture a whole box of them. Ingenious even for me. But in any case, this project is-"

"Can I see it?" I asked, giddy as a child at an amusement park. I didn't even notice the strange looks I was getting from other students at my emo hairstyle today. If _Artemis_ was calling something hyperadvanced, it must be technology worthy of a nobel prize or two. Which he'd probably won several times in the past, but that wasn't important. What was was this mystery thing he was talking about? I didn't get excited over technology very often, but there was something about the way Artemis presented it that had me chomping at the bit. Had that been purposeful? Or did I just have no attention span?

Artemis glared at me in a way that implied that he was mildly miffed but unsurprised at my interruption. Finally he smiled. Mission accomplished.

"I call it the Cube," he introduced, pulling an object out of his pocket. It was, well, a cube. It kinda reminded me of the Tesseract, from the vintage Marvel comic books I used to read. It was oddly shiny, with an odd luster from within and a bluish-white tinge about it. He flipped it around in his hand to show me a circular sensor that looked vaguely like what you would find on a stereo. I stroked it carefully with a finger, lost in awe.

"The casing is a titanium/iridium alloy," he said loftily, as if I could understand. Weren't those metals or something? "Which means it is virtually impenetrable and has a melting point of approximately 2800 degrees kelvin. The color scheme is my own invention-I got bored one night, so I decided to play with marbling the casing with a laser."

"What's it do?" I asked, gaze darting between Artemis and his Cube. He tapped the stereo-thing on the side of the cube. Is it an MP3 player?

"Its secret is this beauty," he explained, his smile broadening as time went on. "It's an omnisensor. It can sense, read, or play absolutely anything in any format-hence its name. It can read your heartbeat, download encrypted files, or play a piece of video or audio in enhanced quality. This kind of technology will revolutionize the world as we know it. Imagine its impact on the stock market. Prices everywhere will plummet, while my precious Cube will have shares selling for thousands of dollars apiece. I'll be-"

"Calvin…I like that name." I muttered to myself. That stopped Arty in his tracks. I was grateful for the verbal ceasefire-I love diabolical takeovers, but when they involve something as complex and pointless as the stock market, I lose interest.

"_Calvin?_" he echoed, slightly disappointed that I wasn't totally in on his stock-crash scheme. "...no, no, no, I said _kelvin_. And that's not its name. Kelvin is a degree of temperature measurement."

"%#$ that, this cube should have a name," I replied carelessly. Artemis sighed at me, glaring into his eyebrows as he is wont to do when I annoy him. "If it's so revolutionary, then it deserves a good name."

"Like what? Cubey?" he brainstormed sarcastically. "It's an inanimate object. It's not like it's going to come running whenever you cry its name. It's not an artificial intelligence...actually, that idea's not half bad. Remind me about that later, will ya, Diane?"

"Don't you change the subject on me, Arty Boy," I threatened, furrowing my brow and shooting him a warning glance of eye lightning. "Think about it, though. The great satellites and space missions-you don't remember Apollo 13 as a random satellite behind a string of numbers. I mean, there are numbers, but it has a recognizable name. People need to remember this, and they need to remember it as something more awesome than 'Cube.'"

I made a blank face at Artemis as I said 'cube,' to prove my point. He rolled his eyes, a subtle sign that I was winning.

"I mean, come on, how boring is the word 'cube?'" I asked rhetorically. "Almost as boring as you can get. I can probably get farther down the boring scale, possibly all the way down to Dr. Po. But I won't bother...what about 'dumb?' That's a pretty boring word, when you think about it. Whaddaya think, Arty? Dumb...dum, dum-de-dum, dummy, dumbnut-"

"And you were telling _me_ to focus," growled Artemis. "Fine. What about Picasso?"

I blinked at him. Of all the random, obscure names from random, obscure bits of greek mythology, why _that?_

"The famous artist?" he clarified, trying to ring a bell in my head. "Invented cubism? Cube? ...you really don't get it, do you?"

"Never heard of 'im," I stated truthfully. "I like Calvin. Calvin the cube. Has a nice ring to it. Also named after one of my favorite comic strip characters from when I was a kid."

"You read comics?" repeated Artemis flatly, as if that were the most idiotic thing in the world. I nodded at him, smiling at the memories.

"Yeah I do!" I replied cheerily. "Comic books are the best. I've always wondered how those artists get that good. It's just, the _art_, y'know? I used to have the artists memorized by their style and the type of plots they worked for. I always found them fascinating. I could never get as good as they are. I mean, how do you perfect the detail of Wolverine's arm hair? Are you $* #ing kidding me? Who is that OCD?"

"You draw?" picked up Artemis, his eyebrow raising in mild interest. I shrugged bashfully.

"It's more like doodling," I confessed. "I've been scribbling on my homework and papers since elementary school. People tell me I'm good, but y'know, who am I to believe them?"

Artemis was looking at me. I looked back at him. He shrugged offhandedly, dispelling the slightly awkward moment.

"I never liked comic books," he lamented. "I always found the plots lacking. In the specimens that I read, at least. I know sappy romance novels with more solid story structure. I should know, I've written a few."

"You write?" I picked up, cocking an eyebrow. He shrugged bashfully.

"I dabble," he confessed. "I suppose my mother was reading too much young adult romance novels back then. I've gotten rave reviews, but how would they know? I wasn't really trying."

I looked at him. He looked back at me. Things clicked.


	9. Chapter 9

_"Open the door_

_Let me in, just once more_

_Then you'll see_

_What your friendship means to me"_

_**Artemis**_

I apologize in advance for the streamlined version of the past week's events, but by now it's been about a month since I first met Diane. And I must write this down now, or it will likely be lost from my memory forever.

Me and Diane got it in our heads to collaborate on a comic book story arc that had both stunning art and legitimate writing. I got to see some of her artwork-most of it was on old math tests and homework assignments. I was surprised at how good she was, although of course I didn't show it. Her attention to detail was surprising, especially knowing Diane, yet at the same time her style had a comical irreverence to it that made it enjoyable. I even found a surprisingly accurate sketch of myself-accurate, except that she'd drawn me smiling. _Smiling._ See what I mean by 'irreverence?'

The next night I got started on a plot, remaining on my laptop late into the night for days on end to write and rewrite the outline. Of course, once I emailed it to her, she was too lazy to read the whole thing, which was what I had expected. What I had counted on. The whole outline was a faux-I never intended for Diane to read the five-page monster, let alone incorporate it into a work-intensive graphic novel. The hours in front of my laptop just last night were spent regurgitating the plot from one of my romance novels that I'd written over two years ago. No, what I intended to give Diane was something much more vital.

Something from my own memory.

By now I had streamlined my Cube, to the point that yesterday I had attempted to strike a deal with a slimy American businessman known as Jon Spiro. As I should've expected, he double-crossed me. As soon as I contacted the fairies for their assistance, I had known in the back of my mind that the possibility of a mindwipe was near certain. The Cube being fashioned from fairy technology, the very fact that I lost it would prove to the LEP that I was too dangerous to retain my knowledge of the People. But I had to take precautions. Most of them were much more complex than this silly scheme, and most of those complex ones were hoaxes to lead Foaly off-track. But with luck, that paranoid centaur would overthink to the point that he would completely miss this simple note that I had thought up at the last minute.

He'd better. I leave to intercept Spiro in half an hour.

I was in Hartfoot's class in one of the back seats mere seconds after the bell rang, so anxious was I to deliver the 'plot' to Diane. I tapped Beethoven's Fourth Symphony on the desk with my fingers, expertly mimicking the trills and glissandos as if I had composed them myself. Yet my mind was on something much more important. I found myself roving the influx of students, scanning them for the only girl in the school. Doubtless others noticed the change in my behavior-normally by now I was jotting concepts and equations in my notebook, even hacking into websites on my phone. Nobody paid me any attention when I did these apparently mundane things, but now that I was looking up with an uncharacteristic fervor, there were bound to be whispered words carried up and down the grapevine.

Finally, a wave of unruly red-tinged blond broke the surface when the hair's owner sprang up to smack the top of the doorjamb. Diane.

I hastily looked away as she took her seat next to me, trying to remain calm. My face was on fire, as if I were blushing._ I'd _better_ not be blushing_, I thought furiously at myself. _Diane's one of the best face-readers I know that's under the age of twenty. She'd see right through me. She has to think that it's nothing important, or it could ruin things between us forever._

Despite myself, I shivered at the thought. Diane was one of the only friends my age, of my species even. How could I risk destroying that fragile treasure?

_Treasure? Gold is treasure._ retorted my finances-oriented frontal lobe. But recently my conscience had began to fabricate a voice for itself.

_Is it?_ it pondered in a rare moment.

"You okay, Nosferatu?"

I frowned at Diane, perfecting the 'really?' expression with a lazy look in my eye and a sarcastic drawl in my voice.

"Nosferatu?" I echoed flatly. Diane shrugged at me, an action that grew less annoying and more endearing the more she did it.

"Isn't that a vampire or something?" she confirmed. I nodded with a sigh, reaching into my breast pocket with a pang in my heart.

"I revised the plot in more concise terms for you last night so that you wouldn't hurt your brain trying to read the whole thing," I fibbed, pulling out a sealed envelope with my signature in the upper corner and Diane's name on the back. "A little childish for my liking, but you can't exactly write Pride and Prejudice into a comic book. I was too lazy to juggle quality with action, so I leaned a little heavily on the action side. I hope you don't mind."

"Don't mind if I do!" she assured, snatching the envelope. She stared at it intently, as if it would burst into flames if she stared at it long enough. "It's not that thick. Are you sure you wrote a whole plot? I mean, knowing _you_, and all..."

"I wrote all right," I muttered, half to myself. "You don't have to read the whole thing, it's just-"

"Naw, naw, I'll make time," she insisted, waving a hand at me as she twirled the letter around in her fingers. "You've done so much already, I wouldn't want to make you work any harder. All I do is make pretty pictures. You're the brains behind the whole thing."

"I often am," I mused to myself. Diane's last quote really had me thinking; of course, she probably hadn't meant for that to be the case, judging by her innocently simple mindset. My job was always to think through things, not to go in there and do the actual work. I never strayed outside my comfort zone for someone else, never went out of my way to do something good or heroic. For years I had concocted up perfectly logical excuses for this, such as the fact that I simply wasn't cut out for the whole heroism thing, both physically and mentally. Butler, maybe, but not me. But Diane had shown me something that I had been trying to denounce for years: logic simply can't solve some things.

Things like friendship.

I cleared my throat, drawing a cursory glance from Diane. I looked over at her too, but had to look away when I carelessly looked into her eyes. I knew I couldn't fool her; I saw that same awful concern in her eyes that had been present the day she'd taken Ike's beating for me. She'd read me like an open comic book with huge lettering in obnoxiously loud colors.

"Diane," I began quietly, forcing myself to look down at the quantum equation I was scribbling. "there's something you should know about the...the plot. No, not the plot, me. It might sound weird, crazy even, but you must trust me. Okay?"

She nodded at me, all ears now that her suspicions had been confirmed. I took a deep breath.

"I'm about to go through something that...that's going to change me," I improvised, finding my words to be heartfelt. Surprising. "You might not like the change. I might relapse-I used to be crueler than this, more calculating. That was before you knew me. But I want to remember this. The memories you've given me, of my very first actual friendship. I might...I might lose them. I don't want to, but I can't be sure. I-"

I cut my own sentence short, taking another shaky breath. The claustrophobia in my throat threatened to shatter my composure. I could feel Diane's eyes on me, willing me to carry on. To be okay.

"You're my best friend," I murmured, turning to look her in the eye to drive this point home. "I want you to know that. Because when I come back, I won't anymore."

"Come back from what?" demanded Diane, the emotion in her gaze shifting from heartbreaking to accusational. I looked out the window to the left to see the Bentley pulling up to the school gates.

"I can't tell you that," I said apologetically, getting up without bothering to gather my school things. "But I will return. I promise you."

I stormed out of class, waiting until I was out in the hall to dash my tears-and hopes-on my sleeve.

_'What Your Friendship Means to Me' is copyright SimGretina and Chi-Chi_


	10. Chapter 10

_"Please come back soon_

_'Cause I can't do this without you_

_And stop all these tears I have shed_

_And these nights-all filled with dread_

_Return safely soon_

_'Cause I miss you"_

_**Diane**_

Artemis wasn't there the next day. Or the next. I didn't know what to do with myself. Artemis wasn't there to bounce snarky comments off of, or try to explain the properties of spacetime to me. I tried to sleep, but I had murky nightmares that I could never remember and I always woke up grumpy. It got so bad that I played hooky for Dr. Po's counseling session. Without Artemis for me to take out my inner frustration, I had no patience for the bumbling professor. I didn't get into any fights while he was gone, but there could only be one reason for that: everyone on campus knew that I was in a bad mood and what I did to people when I was in a bad mood.

That night Sakura was working late filling in grades for her Health Ed class, so I had a room to myself for an hour or two. I rolled over, staring at the wall angrily as if the wall were the one who had taken my best friend away from me. My very first legit friend, save Sakura.

I thought about me and Artemis for a moment. How we tolerated each other, how we rounded each other out, how we acted like we'd known each other for years after only a month of friendship. I realized that I'd been lying to myself about my 'old friends'; back west, I'd moved around with my dad's erratic work hours. So I never had time to develop true, deep friendships. No one I knew back in the States would trust in me the way Artemis did. He tried to hide it, but I saw straight through him. My dad being an actor, I could read his face as easily as an open comic book with huge lettering in obnoxiously loud colors.

But maybe that was a bad thing. The most I ever saw on Artemis's face was contempt, smug cleverness, and the occasional rare glance of real, golden happiness. Like the prank on Po. Seeing such emotion, such _fear_ on his face was scary. It must've been something important. What had he meant? How could he lose our memories?

How could he change?

Muttering frustrated swears under my breath, I rolled over and rummaged in my tokidoki backpack for the envelope he'd given me two days ago. I pulled it out, staring for the longest time at his name in the corner. Such delicate, unmanly handwriting, almost cursive. I tore the envelope open, starving for the merest glance of my missing friend. Inside I found a singular sheet of paper, which I unfolded so quickly that I almost tore it. It sure didn't look like a plot. It looked more like a letter, complete with the same aristocratic handwriting I found on the envelope. I read on.

_Dear Diane,_

_You must believe everything I am about to tell you, no matter how fantastical it may seem. It is quite possible that in the future my life will depend on the information I am confiding in you. In any case, I don't want to lose it, hence the letter._

_Before I explain, ground rules. If anyone asks you about this letter, you must deny its existence. Even me. Especially me. Do not bring this note up with me again, as it will only rouse suspicion with me and make things worse. I am almost certain that I will not remember what I wrote in this letter, only that I wrote it. I may even fabricate a lie for myself in my mind as to the contents of this, anything but the truth. But you have to know this. All of it. Every word is true. You must trust me._

_Fairies do exist. I discovered this nearly two years ago when I was only twelve. They live far underground, and are centuries ahead of us in terms of technology. That is how they have eluded discovery. I used to be on their radar in a negative fashion, but as I write this I go to assist the fairy people from discovery. If the human race were to rediscover the existence of the People (fairykind), it would spell the end of everything._

_But don't go looking for them-they don't like that much, even if you insist that you mean well. Not all fairies are kindhearted, although I am lucky enough to know a handful who are. They can be just as cruel and abusive as we humans, although they tend to think of us as the abusive ones for ruining our planet. Regardless of morality, any fairy you encounter on the surface is bound to be dangerous, armed to the teeth, and capable of making it as if you never saw them._

_That is what is about to happen to me-my mind is going to be wiped because, according to the fairies, I simply know too much for a boy of my intellectual prowess. My logical mind will concoct perfect excuses for their involvement in any memory of mine, even writing this fairy-related letter. No matter what I say or do, don't bring it up. I've prepared a way to rekindle my lost memories, the only way that will prove effective on myself. If you try to talk me into it, it may ruin things between us forever._

_I can't risk that. I can't risk our friendship. It is the most precious thing I have ever had, and only now do I realize it, now that I am on the brink of losing it. The fairies have changed me, for the better, I believe. If it is as if they never existed, then it is near certain that I will return to the cold, calculating Artemis that you never knew. You may hate me, but I can only pray that you will remember this letter. That you will remember me._

_The real me. The me that is going away._

_But fret not; I will return. I promise you._

_Signed,_

_Artemis Fowl_

I found myself clamping my hand to my mouth, trying to stop myself from crying by squinting my eyes shut. But all I saw when they were closed were Artemis's own eyes, filled with that sorrow, that regret, that hidden fear of losing us. I barely blinked at the fairy part-Artemis being Artemis, the whole thing was true. If he was going to lie to me, he wouldn't have made this big a deal of it, and he would've picked a more believable story than fairies. But the important part of the letter to me was the old Artemis, the one I was about to lose. Why should I freak out about fairies when my best friend was on the line here?

Suddenly my heart plummeted with a thousand new terrifying scenarios. What if he never got around to remembering? What if he didn't revert to old Artemis? What if he didn't like me anymore? What if _I_ didn't like him anymore? What if something went wrong with this mind-wipe thing, and he didn't remember me? What if he didn't remember_ anything?_

I hugged my knees, focusing on him. If he wouldn't remember, than I would for him. The vampire smile, the pulled-back hair, the slight frame, the deepest blue eyes this side of the Atlantic. The stinging sarcasm, the cool confidence, the bored intelligence, the hidden child within that just needed a friend. Artemis Cleverclogs Fowl, my one and only, true-to-life best friend. The quiet manner, the subtle grace, the stifled emotions within that more than anything I longed to release for him…

* * *

...I woke up the next morning. The day was a blur. Apparently I'd graffiti'd the halls last night with a vague picture of a fairy and some senseless profanity. Have I started sleepwalking again? Also, where did I get four colors of spray paint?


	11. Chapter 11

_"You burn my energy_

_I don't think I'll make you see_

_That I don't care_

_About you and your best friend"_

**_Artemis_**

I spriffed my jacket again, strolling through the crowded hallways towards my next dull, uninteresting, and altogether too easy class. The business meeting with that shortsighted oaf Spiro had left me in a sour mood. Altogether a waste of time and effort. I was so frustrated upon my return home that I simply hid my Cube away in a cluttered drawer and resolved not to look at it again. Even for me, I was uncharacteristically foul-tempered. After running some trivial calculations in my head, I concluded that there wasn't a thing I could encounter today that could brighten my mood.

At which point Fate attempted to prove me wrong. Which would have been hilarious, if I was in the mood to appreciate Cro-Magnon humor. I wasn't.

I was five steps from the door to Hartfoot's class when I was yanked into a dark, enclosed space. It took me a second to adjust to the dim light, but then a lightbulb was switched on so I had to adjust yet again. The first thing I saw after that nanosecond of blindness was a faceful of freckles and blue eyes.

"What are you doing?" demanded Diane. She was uncomfortably close to me-how could she not be? We were in a broom closet. I made my best attempt to throw my arms up in ac- cusatory exasperation without knocking my elbow on a shelf.

"What are you doing?" I growled in reply. "Why aren't you in class? You're going to make me late!"

"Like you don't know how to hack your own records," drawled Diane, rolling her eyes at me. "or care for that matter. Besides, you're not supposed to be at school anyway. You're lucky I paid off Ike to keep his mouth shut about seeing you at school. Ten pounds just to keep mum!"

"Not supposed to be at school?" I echoed flatly, not believing my ears. What the devil had Diane dragged me into this time?

"Yeah," she confirmed, as if I should know already. "Check your medical records. You caught pneumonia while you're gone. You should be bedridden for at least a few more days, knowing that you have the constitution of a dandelion."

"That's a rather strapping dandelion," I muttered. I'm not that wimpy, thank you. "And for pete's sake, I was going to Chicago. In the summer. Pneumonia in sunny Chicago?"

"Ask Sakura," she shrugged. "She told me it was believable. She said that about the dandelion thing, too. She says she's seen sparrows with stronger cardiovascular systems than you."

"We are going to have a talk about that later," I snapped, poking her in the chest as if she were the one that had insulted me. "Just because my strengths are not of the physical category does not give her the right to-"

"Lights out!" she hissed suddenly, pulling on the lightbulb cord and surrounding us in darkness. My instinct told me to stay perfectly still and not make a sound. For once in my life, I listened to it. I could just barely make out the form of Diane's explosive hair in front of me and hear her whisper-silent breathing. My own sounded abrasive in my own ear, and my heartbeat was suddenly the loudest thing short of a warhead. Footsteps clopped by outside in the hall, their silhouettes temporarily darkening the closet even further as they passed by. The moment seemed to go on forever, the very air moist with apprehension.

Finally, the footsteps echoed off into the distance. The light switched on, revealing the grin split across Diane's face. Was it just me, or was she a little closer than she had been when the lights went off?

"You've never played hooky a day in your life, have you?" she asked breathlessly. I blinked at her.

"I'll take that as a no," she assumed, her smile fading minimally. "Well, first time for everything, eh?"

"Life is all a big joke to you, isn't it?" I snarled, angry for a reason I couldn't place at the moment. "All about your little pointless games. Don't you have a purpose besides being a delinquent?"

"If I do, I sure haven't found it, yet," she said proudly, grinning even wider. "C'mon, it'll be fun!"

How had I ever become friends with her?

She was my complete opposite in every aspect. While I calculated, she freelanced. Where I sighed, she laughed. When I saw black and white, she saw technicolor. No matter how certain I was of anything and everything, Diane inexplicably managed to prove me wrong as soon as I had an answer that made sense. It was infuriating, to the point where at times I wished I'd never dragged myself into this friendship nonsense.

But then there were other moments. Moments like this.

Diane miraculously had a cab parked at the school gate, probably how she had gotten to school in the first place. Who knows what excuse she had conjured for herself to be absent for a couple days? If she had gone to the trouble of making an excuse, that is. She took a back seat with me and told the driver to make for Duchess Adéla Solvekych's summer home, before sliding the privacy window shut. I'd never heard the name before, but it must have been Diane's mother. I recalled that first dual counseling session with Dr. Po, when she'd told me her life story. I wondered about her relationship with her mother-after all, Diane had literally called her own mother the 'richest broad this side of the Atlantic.' But what had her mother ever done to her?

"Man, what I wouldn't give to be in your shoes last weekend, you lucky skunk," sighed Diane with a nostalgic grin on her face, putting her feet up on the center console. "I miss America. Me and Dad mostly stuck around the southwest, but we did go on tour in the northeast one time. From Chicago up through New York and even Boston. Plenty of paparazzi, flashing lights, and headlines about 'Daddy's Little Girl.'"

"Your father must have been quite the star," I observed casually, still trying to figure out what had made me want to pursue this relationship. "Knowing you, you probably thrived from all the attention."

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" she mused, staring out at the sunny pastures of Ireland rolling by with an odd glaze in her eye. "But no. At first, the lights scared me. I was only a little girl when I had my first taste of fame, about eight or so."

Eight years old. Not so bad. I was memorizing the dictionary by then, in between testing my lunar terraformer prototype and creating my own star chart. Diane pulled her feet off the center console, leaning forward onto her knees with her chin in her hand.

"It was all so bright, so loud," she recalled. "They would ask me weird questions that I knew nothing about, about politics and the state of the world and nonsense like that. But then Dad told me something that helped me cope. He said, 'Just smile for the camera, sweetie. As long as you give them what they want, they'll leave you alone. And they want your big, beautiful smile, because they've forgotten how to smile themselves.'"

I realized by the quaver of her voice that she was beginning to cry. She wiped her eyes on her bare arm, having forsaken the stiff Bartleby's modified uniform for a Foo Fighters t-shirt (what on earth are Foo Fighters?)and torn jeans. With a pang of empathy unusual for a boy of my caliber, I recalled my father's time in the hands of the Russian mafiya. Until very recently, I hadn't seen my father for two years. I'd coped with it well enough, but I couldn't say for Diane. She was much more emotionally prone than I was.

"Sorry," she apologized, voice still unstable. "I'm a total wuss. I just...I _miss_ him. He was my parent. I didn't have a mom, and I still don't, for that matter. That insensitive witch is more a slave to the public than my dad. At least he had a sense of self-worth and agency. My mom would disown me if it would get her enough attention. Sometimes I wish she would."

"What did she do to you?" I asked quietly, leaning closer to her. She glared at me with a sudden vehemence that seemed more fitting for a caged predator.

"Nothing," she seethed. "She was never there. She never loved me, she never even loved Dad. And she never will. Yeah, sure, now she wants me, because she feels sorry for the poor little urchin whose daddy is 'unable to care for his child.' Yeah, right! So she boots him out of the picture into some third-rate rehab, separating us when we're the only beings in the world that make each other happy, and puts a diamond collar on me in an attempt to turn me into her perfect little blueblood angel! Does she even _have_ maternal instinct? Maternal instinct does not wear diamond-studded collars! She-she's such a-_rrgh!_"

Diane was scaring me. She really was. But instead of exploding, she put her face in her hands and sobbed.


	12. Chapter 12

_"I was starting to feel bad for you_

_And I knew you'd turn me down_

_It was_

_A fight for you to see through_

_An ideal to live up to_

_That's what you counted for"_

_**Diane**_

Artemis was right. I didn't like new Artemis.

At first I fantasized that maybe Artemis was wrong, that he would be exactly the same when he returned. But, being the cleverclogs he is, he was right on the money. New Artemis walked with that same cold purpose and spoke with the same sharp tongue that he used to have, when I first met him. He even seemed colder than when I first knew him, if that was even possible. In his eyes I saw not the slightest trace of happiness when he recognized me in the gloom of that broom closet. He might as well have said to my face, 'Oh. It's you. Ugh.'

Well, he probably wouldn't say 'Ugh.' Probably something like 'Mon Dieu' or something equally dismissive. Before he'd left, I could always pick out a fleck of appreciation in his eyes. But now it'd been smothered, lost in the cold blue expanse of his royal blue eyes. It was as if all those times we'd shared meant nothing to him anymore. How could he have forgotten me, his very first friend?

When I broke down in the cab, I wasn't just crying because my mom is a total *#$#&. I'd known that for years from the horror stories that Dad would tell me. I was crying because I was afraid that I'd lost Old Arty. New Artemis acted as if he'd never found himself, as if he'd died out there in the world.

No, not died. Not lost. Forgotten.

Artemis put an arm around me, something that even I hadn't expected in my emotional low. My sob froze in its tracks. I looked up at Artemis with wide eyes, my heart brimming with hope at this sign. His face twisted a little, surely feeling awkward at this tender expression. I smiled at him, brushing hair out of my face and straightening a little.

"I-it's okay," he said softly, retracting his arm as if scared of showing himself. He was taking baby steps, rediscovering friendship's meaning-just like that lunch period all that time ago. "I've been there. When I was only a lad, I...I lost my father. For two years I searched, but in vain. When I finally did rescue him, he...he was different. He was a new person. He used to be cold, clever, just like me. But now he's warmer, and it's..._weird_. Like when I first met you. You baffled me, and you still do. But…"

"But?" I prompted, his pause lasting longer than I had patience for. He smiled at me, and for the barest, most precious glimmer, I saw Arty.

"But I like it." he said.

* * *

As soon as the driver pulled up, I swung the door open before he could put on the parking brake and swaggered onto the driveway. Artemis followed suit on the other side of the car, looking around furtively as if he were afraid of the world now that he had revealed his soft inner sanctum. Like I would betray his secret-he'd given me a much bigger one less than a week ago. I tapped in the passcode for the gate on a shiny keypad, tapping my foot impatiently as the wrought-iron gate took its sweet time opening for me. Artemis cast his gaze over 'my' property, looking as poorly impressed as I was the first time I'd come to my new home. Well, 'home' was as fitting a term for my place as 'mom' was for my biological maternal parent.

"It's nothing special," I lamented as I finally walked through, allowing the taxi to drive away. "I mean, it is to 'mom,' but it really is nothing special. Me and Dad's mobile trailer back west-that was something special. Something I'd trade this for in a heartbeat."

"Your mother spared no expense, did she?" observed Artemis, eyeing the square acre of rolling green land and the fat mansion plopped in the middle of it. I'd seen the whole thing more times than I'd like, but I guess I should describe it anyway. The whole estate is fenced off by spiky iron fence, and trees aren't allowed except for a cluster of conifers around the house itself and the lavish gardens. Out of these trees streaked two low-to-the-ground and incredibly fast figures. At the sight of them, my face broke into the devilish grin that Artemis knew all too well.

"Brace yourself, Arty," I said ominously. He made no move to act on my warning, instead looking at the oncoming figures with increasing fear. Sighing at him, I reverted to my coach vs. rookie instinct.

"You call that a stance?" I insulted, planting my hands on his shoulders and pulling them forward. He stumbled with less grace than I would expect from a man of his caliber, then widened his feet to compensate for the loss of balance. "Lower your center of gravity! Plant those feet on the ground! You're about to be tackled in the gut by a hundred and ten pounds of fur and muscle, make it worth his while! Honestly, you call yourself a man? I know saplings that are more steadfast than you!"

"Is the shouting really necessary?" asked Artemis, his own voice rising in volume in an attempt to compete with mine. I nodded, dropping into my own football stance.

"May Dog have mercy on your skeleton," I rumbled, relishing the look of horror on his face as he was ran flat by what appeared to be a black wolf.

I was subsequently glomped by a giant white-and-red borzoi. I ruffled his long, wavy coat of fur from his neck to his shoulders, spouting pet babble as he licked my face off. By the time I rolled up into a sitting position, his entire body was wagging from his mid-spine down. I gave him a bear hug around his shoulders, completely ignoring Artemis's muffled pleas for help from under my huge german shepherd mix. But then the black dog noticed me and jumped up on me, reaching all the way to my shoulders to try and out-compete the borzoi in the lick-Diane's-face-off olympics.

Artemis got to his feet, muttering something about his newly soiled school uniform. By now I had engaged in a tussle with my dogs, eventually getting them both on their backs and panting with happiness. Artemis looked on in equal parts wonder and indignance as I gave them belly rubs.

"I should've known you were a dog person," he grumbled with a hint of contempt. I finally got up, brushing grass stains off my jeans whilst absentmindedly scratching a pair of ears.

"Of course I am," I shrugged, as if that were obvious. "Meet Boris and Blackie. Well, technically, Boris is Mom's-political gift from some Russian count. Blackie came with me from America. He couldn't stand being away from me; a week after I left, he broke into Dad's trailer and tore it up like a tornado."

Artemis looked a little apprehensive as Blackie leaned into his leg, undoubtedly about to topple himself under Blackie's weight. "The way they came at me, they're either the best guard dogs or the worst."

"Trust me, they're the best," I corrected, walking up the brick walkway to the front doors. "Well, at least Blackie is. Boris is a little shy around strangers, so he tends to avoid them. The only reason he came tearing down towards us is so that he could get at me. Blackie, on the other hand, has this intuition that lets him know immediately whether or not someone's here with permission or not. If you are, he's your best friend. If you're not, he'll rip you to shreds. Apparently he'd done that before, but that was before the shelter picked him up and rehabbed him."

Artemis didn't look any more assured after being told that the dog that was begging him to be petted was an ex-mangler of humans. I swung the door open, completely ignoring the ballroom-sized front room and waltzing towards the stairwell. But I froze for a moment-Blackie's fur was raised, and he was growling. Not at Artemis, though judging by the look on my friend's face, he didn't know that. I looked around, though it was very likely that what Blackie sensed was something I could not. Nothing I could do about it now.

"Easy, boy," I murmured, scratching Blackie's ears. Groaning unhappily, my dog escorted Artemis up the stairs beside me, Boris on my other side. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

That something was about to go horribly wrong.


End file.
